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 Oct 2013 oaks i kill
Showman
First there is the prep.
The roommate.
Wearing salmon colored pants.  
He has Shaggy from ****** Doo
On his left thigh.
The alcoholic.
She has a drinking problem.
She is in denial of her drinking problem.
She hangs out with the loners.
The loners.
Unkempt, unattractive and fat in all the wrong places.
The blond looks like Tom Petty.
The one with dark hair, glasses and braces
They live next door.
Living together but segregated. 
Wild cards.
All of us.

©Gambit '13
 Oct 2013 oaks i kill
Eliza
Goodbye
 Oct 2013 oaks i kill
Eliza
I'm sorry,
but I haven't been coping well lately.
I hope you'll forgive me,
and be able to save me.

So many thoughts on my mind,
and all of them screams "I'm not fine.".
I hope you might be kind,
and won't let me cross that line.

I have set a date,
on the day I graduate,
to end my fate.
So don't be late.

I've thought this through,
there's nothing that you can do.
I don't belong here, it's true.
This shall be my goodbye to you.

*(n.d.)
 Oct 2013 oaks i kill
krista
do not fall for a boy with a pirate heart, even if he will
cross five thousand miles of sand and ocean to be with you,
carrying nothing more than loneliness and longing in his cargo hold.
those things will bond you both together like an oath, but
blood is thicker than water and soon, the promises will weigh you down
like rocks in your pocket, keeping your lungs and heart empty.
he will not stay, something will always call him away in the morning,
even after you've spent the night wrapped in his strong arms,
counting the stars from the undersides of the highest sail.
you will listen to his stories, for they will stretch beyond the decks
of his ship and make you feel both empty and full at once,
but you cannot rely on a tattooed smile to forge you a key to the world.
eventually, he will leave you on stranger shores, soaking and breathless,
wondering when the next tide will bring him close to you again.
but you are not a ***** he found bar-side, never call yourself that.
you must be unpredictable and wild as the sea itself, bottling storms
into your heartbeat and braiding a barrier reef into your hair.
you are calypso, dangerous and beautiful and unyielding,
and if he comes back ten years from now to set foot on the shore,
you will not be waiting. you cannot always be waiting.
he might tell you he loves you. but even then, he is only speaking
about the seventy percent he is familiar with, the part that is pulled into
rises and falls by the moon, a dna sequence patterned by the earth itself.
do not answer him. steal his ship by sunrise instead and plan to follow
the treasure map that you've long since forgotten. never come back.
leave him with a seashell at his side and he will remember at last
that the reason he loved the ocean was because it sounded like you.
// for kd
I left this town in 75
a dumb drunk ****

or as a friend once
poetically observed
"a beer quaffing linebacker"

but tonight I return
an enlightened poet
ready to recite
a stack of poems
eight years and two days
removed from my last drink

now relishing
the sweet intoxication
of drinking in
seas of words and letters,
brading a life's narrative with
solitary lifelines of truth

This town knew me

I know this town

The pomp and circumstance
of my high school commencement
occurred in this very place

I know the exact spot
near St. Mary
where Moose was killed
that awful
Good Friday evening.

After enjoying
the team revelry
at a Saturday Night
victory party;
I ran my hand across
the scarred Poplar
on West Passaic Avenue
that abruptly ended
Fic's life.

I slink past the house
filled with heinous memories
of my youth, cringing
through relived nightmares
of my father brutalizing
my naked mother in
an alcoholic rage;
and remain busy
trying to lick the still
raw sting of running wounds
inflicted by a mother
consumed with a
raging bitterness of
self righteous resentments.

Beer, *****,
Strawberry
Boone's Farm
and lotsa rolled bones
destroyed my family home,
murdered childhood
friends and greased
the wheels of
getaway cars in
fruitless attempts
to escape emotional
nightmares.

From where I stand
I can throw a stone
in any direction to mark
the scenes of
a hundred stories
that authored
the constitution
of me.

Across
the street
I can see
the lights burning
in the apartment where
Weehawken Joe
once lived.

Take a look.

He was crazier than
Tony Montana and
like Scarface not a
single lie could
be found in him;
he also possessed
the gift of
the best jump-shot
the Bulldogs ever had.

Years after I left town
I burst into tears
when Buns Hines
broke the news that
Weehawken  Joe
died of throat cancer.

Mortality is a
bitter truth
to swallow.

All along
Park Avenue
old commercial haunts,
save Varrelmann's Bakery
long gone.

Further up the street
my pilgrimage ends at the
WCW homestead.

In the fading light
of a glorious
autumn afternoon
the house appears
rundown, empty,
mournfully shabby.

On an upper floor
a lace curtain gently
flits and darts out an
open window.

I ponder
the words
still dwelling in
the dark closets
haunting the rooms
of this distressed edifice.

I wonder
how they now
sound?

The faint noises
hidden in
dusty corners
moaning a
ghostly presence,
creeping the halls,
clattering about
the kitchen,
bounding through
the living room
in an old beat-up
Red Wheelbarrow;
rolling along
moving to manifest
faintly whispered echos
into fully formed phrases;
liberating expressive sentiments
of a very blue house...

Eight years, two days
removed from a drink,
I'm grasping for letters
fumbling for the words
listening for sounds
churning within me
seeking to release
the revelations
of my truth.

Crosby, Stills Nash & Young
On the Way Home

William Carlos Williams Center
Rutherford NJ
10/02/13
I heard a cry in the night,
A thousand miles it came,
Sharp as a flash of light,
My name, my name!

It was your voice I heard,
You waked and loved me so—
I send you back this word,
I know, I know!
Here I am writing an awesome sonnet
Just because I have to for my homework,
I can't believe I'm enjoying the school work!
I'm even wearing my little bonnet,
My mom bought by money in her pocket.
I don't even feel like wanting to urk!
I just can't believe I'm enjoying the work!
Now I'm imagining a bright comet,
Bursting out of the huge, vast galaxy
And now I'm being out of topic
Now I want to dive into a big pool,
Diving with my BFF's and Maxy,
Swimming with them in the beachy tropic,
That is going to be superbly cool.
 Sep 2013 oaks i kill
yv
seasons
 Sep 2013 oaks i kill
yv
i am a leaf --
my life changes 
like the upcoming seasons

it begins soon after
the warmth fades away
it leaves me exposed, bitter
i change

i begin to feel cold
i fall and crumble up
dissolving into the world around me
with no intention of recovering

i unexpectedly sprout from a different source
a new beginning
a new start

my life is lush and radiant once again
and i can move on
knowing that i will have enough energy
to keep me feeling alive
for a while, anyway

i continue to grow
i quickly absorb what i need
and hope that fate changes
i do not want to make a mistake
i do not want to fall
but it is inevitable

i feel unusual
tense
stressed
my energy soon dies out
everything beats down on me
like the scorching hot sun

the warmth is soon peeled away
and it is quickly replaced
by the familiar, chilly wind
an ongoing cycle

i am a leaf --
my life changes
endlessly


y.v
I felt a feeling so intense
It was palpable in the air between us
I could feel the electricity
And it felt like sunshine on a cloudy day
The mysterious mist of admiration
But nobody could see it but me
And I don't know his name
And I don't know his age
And I don't know his story
But I do know his face
And I do know his eyes
And I do know his smell
And I do know his voice

But he doesn't know me
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